Me, Myself and Memories

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  Noreen 3:32 pm on December 17, 2018 Permalink
  Tags: Jake, Laura ( 2 ), Michael   

  What a Treasure 

  

  The UPS fellow dropped off a great delivery on Saturday. It was from my brother Michael’s daughter, Laura, and her husband, Jake.

   

  Michael had taken up Dad’s love of all things wood, complete with the sawmill on the farm. With the loss of Michael in November, 2018, the sawmill site became silent and perhaps not remain as such. On a visit since that time Laura and Jake had been back at the farm and revisited some of Michael’s haunts on the farm place. Picking up bits and pieces around the sawmill, Laura and Jake began hatching a plan.

  I grew up on the farm that Michael and JoAnn had made their home for 45 years. They knew that I would always refer to that as still my home, as from the age of five on this was “My home.” Michael and JoAnn allowed me that liberty.  Laura and Jake allowed me to have a piece of “My home” complete with all the character that Michael and the sawmill had created.  Looking at the clock I can almost hear and smell the saw blade cut through this piece of Black Walnut  leaving the markings for the life of what had been deemed discarded.  Not so!  This was and will always be special to me.

  This is why the trip to Mankato was essential to Dennis yesterday.  A shelf was in his wheel house for Michael’s clock to sit upon. He needed hardware brackets for a board he had found in our basement. I stayed out of the picture in total in regard to his staining of the wood to the point that he thought it was ready. This morning I had a chiropractor appointment as well as visiting the grocery store. The shelf project was Dennis’ in total, complete to where the clock and the shelf would be within our home.

  When I came home there was a bit of plaster on the floor and a few screws of various sizes on the kitchen counter.  The project had been completed.  Dennis admitted he was wore out.  My poor ole cowboy had worked far beyond his pay grade.  Multiple marks for screws on the board and also a few unused marks on the wall.  A trip to Fleet and Farm for the right screws and broken drill bit also was in his story.  Dennis’ first ever solo wood project and it was the frosting on the cake.

  A clock had been made with unconditional thought and love and a shelf put up out of inexperienced woodworking love for me.  I have said it before, life on Stauffer is sweet.  I am feeling pretty darn special.  The clock and Dennis are definitely treasures.

   
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  Noreen 6:00 pm on November 8, 2018 Permalink
  Tags: Michael   

  It feels so good to be home safe and sound after being away for a short time of only 32 hours. My brother Michael was laid to rest today. The family, friends and neighbors who came together was wonderful. It was also overwhelming. I feel weary and spent. That is not a bad thing to feel. I know being home with Dennis I will regenerate after a good’s night rest. I also realize that Michaels’ family doesn’t even know what it will feel like after the weeks and months being on watch 24/7 as Michael was enduring, sometimes struggling the cancer treatments. Their time to regenerate and heal will be to each in their own time in their own quiet and space.

  When Dennis and I got home we were diligent getting our suitcases unpacked. The second item was getting our PJs on. I know I will be settling in for the remainder of the week with not a single need that will demand more of me. Quiet and rest and contemplation until such time that I feel like pulling up the boot straps for what next week may bring.

  The blessing of the pastor’s at the close of the service said it all, “Blessed be Michael’s memory.”

   
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  Noreen 10:19 am on November 7, 2018 Permalink
  Tags: Michael   

  Hmm, I was so sure we would have Indian Summer. As Dennis and I started picking up the yard and getting ready to button it up for winter, we never had a chance to work without a jacket and gloves.

  When I opened my eyes this morning I was lying on my right side in bed and facing north. For some time I watch the boughs of the large evergreen swaying in the wind. It was tranquil. It was comforting. Several Morning Doves flitted among boughs. Peaceful.

  Today Dennis and I are traveling north. We will be at Michael’s viewing this afternoon and evening. It seemed to be the wisest to stay overnight in Hutchinson and travel on to Glencoe for the funeral tomorrow. No doubt it will be a time to take in some somber visitors as well as those who can bring to mind a remembrance that will bring a smile and no doubt laughter. It will be a good thing.

  Dennis is preparing the patio porch for his kids to spend some time alone. Fresh litter box, plenty of food and water will be at hand. On the down side is if they all decide to make an appearance into the patio porch before we leave. The cats have the run of the yard at their will. They generally show up at curfew time to spend the night in their boxes. If some need to spend the night outside, it will be just that much sweeter when we return tomorrow towards evening and the open doors will welcome them home.

  I feel good this morning. My headache has subsided. It’s a good thing.

   
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  Noreen 5:36 pm on November 6, 2018 Permalink
  Tags: Dad ( 5 ), Elvera ( 3 ), Michael, Mom ( 5 )   

  What a blustery day. You know the wind is strong, steady and howling when the stubborn Lilacs let go of their leaves. We have a wind chime in the Evergreen on the northwest corner of the house. It dinged and clanged to the point I was sure it would end up on the ground by daylight.

  Yesterday was a frenzy of phone messages, text messages and emails wanting to be informed and supportive of Michael’s family. Today was a quiet day. Not even a single phone call with a political agenda. I did speak with Michael’s wife, JoAnn, this morning. Her three daughters, their husbands and five grandchildren are keeping her quite busy. In time to come the quiet will close in, reflections as she looks at aspects of their home. How could it not.

  I admit I have had a nagging headache since Friday. Our bodies do not lie to us. We get busy and shove things to the back of our brains. We can exhaust ourselves cleaning house and washing laundry. We can throw ourselves into mind challenging stitch patterns. You think you are fooling yourself . . . Not! You can’t fool your body and brain. I have tomorrows yet to come to let reality sink in of the loss of Michael. Within time, that nagging headache will become a soft feeling in my heart when I think of him. I know that I will heal.

  It took me an awfully long time before I could speak or think of the loss of my Dad and Mom without tears seeping down my checks. My sister Elvera was taken suddenly. No one to call and say “Do you have the recipe of Mom’s for such and such recipe?” “When are we going to check out that new quilt shop that they call The Old Alley Quilt Shop?” I am so fortunate. Many people do not have those treasures that have touched them to their core. I have had, I do have . . . my life is rich beyond measure.

   
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  Noreen 3:59 pm on November 5, 2018 Permalink
  Tags: Michael   

  What to Do 

  My youngest brother is now at peace.  No more surgeries, no more treatments, no more pain.  It’s hard to wrap my head around it.  Michael was at his home with JoAnn when Michael’s fight ceased. Michael has always been the one for in depth conversations about family, things that actually mattered to his family or mine.  We left the fluff of the latest news to someone else.  Our history mattered.  Our feelings for each other mattered.  Our concerns mattered to each other.  We shared life.  How thankful that he and I got to share one on one this summer several times.  Priceless.  When I would look into his blue eyes, my blue eyes were reflected in his.  When I held his hand, the pressure from his hand warmed my heart and soul.  For a time today I didn’t carry a tissue, I had a clean white dish towel in my hands.  My tears were nothing but feelings.  Real feelings.  How grateful I am that I have them.  I will always have those warm fuzzy feelings about Michael. I will heal in time.  It’s the time of hurt that I actually cherish.  It is my loss that I am cherishing.  

  What to do?  I contacted everyone that I knew who would want to know of Michael’s passing.  JoAnn and their daughters have plenty to contend with today.  I struggled with phone conversations.  It was easier to text or send an email.  I didn’t apologize about my tears.  They were mine to shed.

  This afternoon had really become heavy time.  Pacing isn’t a good thing.  I decided to go down into the sewing studio and find something to occupy some time, some mindset.  I needed to have something in front of me to concentrate on.  Nothing complex.  Not much that would need concentration.  Just something going on in front of me.  I started up the embroidery machine with a stitchery that involved nothing but electricity and the lowest speed possible.  I sat and watched the stitches fill the fabric and let the stitches fill an emptiness.  

  The day is getting better.  I have a supper to fix for Dennis and me.  I have the will to make good use of this day.  This day will get easier so much faster for me than Michael’s Joann, Erin, Laura and Michaela.  They are immersed in putting items in place for closure.  Their time for pure grief will be yet to come when there will be the emptiness that each will feel in their own right.   

  What to do?  Enjoy the peace that Michael now has.  Enjoy the impact that my little brother has made in my life.  That is truly priceless.

   
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  Noreen 4:32 pm on July 10, 2018 Permalink
  Tags: Michael   

  I have often mentioned before that when my heart and spirit are aching it is best for me to remain busy. What might you say would cause my heart and spirit to ache? That would be my younger brother Michael.

  The esophageal cancer reared its ugly head for a second time for Michael this early spring. The plans for radiation and chemo were on track and had begun. I stopped to see Michael and JoAnn on Saturday. They were scheduled to travel back to Rochester on Monday for the 3:00 p.m. treatment and remain for the full four days and return to the farm on the weekend. It was just great seeing him, hugging him and wishing him all the good I could.

  Sunday afternoon they were on their way to the Rochester ER as Michael was not doing well. JoAnn texted a message with “more when I know more.” I received a text this forenoon. Michael has pneumonia in his left lung. The stint that they inserted in his esophagus as they were preparing for the radiation and chemo treatment had created a fistula, a leak. All that was taken via his mouth had been allowing some drainage into the middle of his chest . . . called mediastinum. They don’t how the fistula came about. No more drinking or eating anything, no more treatment of the cancer until the mediastinum situation is cleared up. It may take two weeks. Michael will have a feeding tube in his stomach for nutrition and IV antibiotics. Not much good news in that text. JoAnn retired as a surgical nurse. She knows the skinny. She is my brother’s saving grace as a lay person would not have made that trip to the ER on Saturday, but perhaps waited until their appointment time on Monday.

  I needed to stay busy and lighten my heavy heart. I decided to use up the last of the epoxy paint mixture and give my closet floors a second coat. It had been 48 hours and the recoat was listed as 8 hours. It’s not like it was not warranted as the rough troweled pitted floors took it right in. Let the fans run and get this done.

  Prayers are not sent only at the end of my days when the day is dark. I am sending some ALL day long.

   
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  Noreen 6:21 am on March 7, 2016 Permalink
  Tags: Dan ( 4 ), Dorothy, Janet ( 3 ), JoAnn ( 2 ), Lorraine ( 6 ), Michael   

  A Phone Call Away 

  It has been a week of multiple phone calls coming to Stauffer Avenue, with most of them going over 45 minutes.  I find it quite satisfying that I have three aunts from my Dad’s side of the family who enjoy chatting over the phone when visits in person are not possible.  Dad’s sister Janet is 83; Dad’s sister-in-law Lorraine is 85; and Dad’s sister-in-law Dorothy is 93.

  I so hope I am as sharp as Dorothy when I reach the age of 93.  Dorothy lives in an assisted living in Glencoe. An example of one of her concerns is that she knows the instructions that come with her medication indicating when they are the most effective.  That does not mean they should all be dumped into one cup and her being expected to take them in one gulp. She is able to visit about the politics of the election to a great degree better than I can.  Her and I take turns calling each other. With her keeping in touch with her six children and their families, I feel honored when I receive her calls.

  Aunt Lorraine lives in a mother-in-law unit of her daughter’s home in Arizona.  Lorraine called last night as she just was not in the mood to do any sewing.  I did ask her if she was sick.  At the age of 85 she could outfit the Holiday Inn rooms with beautiful pieced quilts.  She is one mean quilting machine.  I enjoy snuggling up to my Santa Claus quilt twelve months of the year as I close my evening watching some television.

  Aunt Janet has never had children and lost her husband early on from a diabetic attack.  Janet helps her bachelor nephew, Dan, on his farm with some baking, and when Dan butchers his pork, beef and poultry.  Dan still makes his own summer sausage and Janet helps him can meat.  Dan is living the heritage on the farm that is the great, great grandparents homesteaded.  Dan has several hired hands to help on the dairy farm and crop acres and the canned meat always comes in handy for a quick meal.  Janet called to ask me if I would put together a Wendlandt family gathering this summer for all Wendlandt-connected individuals.  Dan purchased the church in the next township when it closed last year.  My grandparents, their eight children and many of their children attended this church.  Dan thought the church basement would be a great place for the get together.  The church is just as it was when the doors closed for the last time.  Amazing.

  

  Free motion quilting is called “meandering.” Wandering from point to point and doing it often will give me more confidence.

  For me to spend a lot of time on a phone is totally out of character.  Since retiring, I am more likely to swipe the dust off of our phone than to use it.  The one phone call that came in, always ends up having me sending up a special prayer of thanks.  My brother Michael called and said he made it through the latest scan and is deemed free of the cancer that he battled several years ago.  Esophageal cancer is very difficult to come through with a quality of life.  He came through with flying colors with the help of his wife, JoAnn, a surgical nurse, now retired.

  In between times this week, I mustered the courage to tackle a 46″ x 52″, doing the free motion quilting on my sewing machine.  My fingers and hands can no longer hand stitch quilts or tie them with yarn.  I am not pre-judging whether I can do a large quilt.  For now, I am tickled that I tackled this crib-sized quilt.  Many squiggles of various shapes.

  You can’t fail unless you try and you can’t stay up to date with family members if the phones are not in use.

  A spring type week is in the forecast and it is now the season of mud.

   
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  Noreen 4:36 am on November 6, 2015 Permalink
  Tags: Calvin ( 4 ), Dad ( 5 ), Elvera ( 3 ), Michael, Mom ( 5 )   

  The Workforce 

  This is the time of the year when memories come flooding to me.  The leaves are just about off of the trees, the garden produce has been harvested and stored or canned and the acres of corn and soybeans have been harvested.  So what does go on at a farmyard after harvest and before the snow flies?  No twiddling of thumbs I can assure you.

  

  Raymond and Lena’s Workforce: Elvera, Noreen, Calvin and Michael. In the photo: Elvera’s dress was pink taffeta with rhinestone buttons. My dress was aqua with a white eyelet bodice front made by my mom. The boys had on tan plaid zip front coveralls. The memories bring a smile sliding down my cheeks.

  The first order of business was getting the Workforce outfitted with proper attire:  hats, everyday clothes and gloves . . . that fit well.  After school, we would join Dad at the site where logs had been collected since last year at the same time.  We could hear the tractor long before we saw the setup: a huge saw blade setup, run by a rubber belt getting its power from the flywheel on the Allis Chalmers tractor.

  Dad had been cutting logs all the day long into chunks of various sizes.  A wooden flair box wagon hooked to a second tractor was a bit of a distance away, with the amount of cut wood making a huge heap that rose over the sides.  A second flair box wagon was close to the saw and Dad was cutting and chucking chunks of wood into the second wagon with energy as fresh with his rhythm as if he had just started the project and not having been at it for most of the day.

  Elvera’s job was to pull the filled wagon box as close as possible to the west basement window of the house. Myself, Calvin and Michael were in the basement waiting for Elvera to begin tossing the chunks of wood through the window.  Much like a chain gang, Michael and Calvin then threw the cut wood to me where I would begin stacking it, beginning at a point farthermost from either side of the window.  The stacking was an art in itself.  The first row pointing out with the second row lying across, followed by a row pointing out.  So it went.  Two loads a day after school, with the big finale coming over the MEA weekend.  Over a period of time the wood room that was as wide as the house by eight feet deep was filled to the top with neatly stacked wood to tide the family over the winter.  There were a fair amount of crushed fingers or sore toes as the tossing of the wood did get a bit out of hand.  A chunk of wood is heavy, but coming at an appendage via a toss made the impact more severe.  Oh, don’t worry, just to make sure, we also stacked quite a few wagons of wood in the machine shed – just in case the winter was longer and more severe than we had anticipated.  Surprisingly, quarrels were rare.  We just wanted to finish this yearly task.

  Once the sore bodies, fingers and toes were healed over, the Workforce mustered together for their reward.  Those very same wooden flair box wagons were pulled out to the harvested corn fields with Elvera at the helm and the three of us hanging on while being in the wagon.  Elvera would park the wagons in good strategic places.  All four of us began walking the corn rows, each carrying a five gallon pail, seeking and searching for ears of corn that the corn picker had missed.  It was now our turn to chuck ears of corn into the wagon.  With each five gallon pail emptied into the wagon we could see dollar signs. The deal with Dad was, that after the fields had been walked with the wagons holding OUR harvest, Dad would pull the wagons to the elevator in town.  The money from the loads of ear corn was ours to split four ways.  Hooray!

  I can tell you that we counted our stash, we fingered our stash, we planned and schemed.  This was our money to spend on Christmas presents in Hutchinson, most likely at the Ben Franklin or Woolworth stores.  We were rolling in dough.  I have no doubt that Mom and Dad may have added to the pot.  We never were given allowances per say, for being our parent’s social security, aka: workers when work needed to be done, equals a steady benefit.  We all worked together and we generally worked very well together.

  As I said earlier on: the fall season is steeped in memories for me.

  In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.

   
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  Noreen 2:40 am on August 3, 2014 Permalink
  Tags: JoAnn ( 2 ), Lena ( 6 ), Michael, Raymond ( 4 )   

  And Thanks Went Heaven Bound 

  Yesterday I received a phone call from my brother Michael.  He was calling me from the swing on his porch having coffee.  Is that really a cause for prayers?  It really is.  For the first time since the middle of April he was able to swallow a liquid.  Michael was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in January of 2014.  The radiation and chemo treatment began and so did the waiting game for my brother and his family.  It was the surgery that needed to take place after the chemo and radiation that became a “wait and see” for possible recovery.

  There is no need to do medical terms to high heaven.  The radiation burned his throat but still allowed for drinking and nourishment even though he could not taste anything.  From April until this last week Michael could not swallow anything, even his own saliva.  This next week he will able to have the feeding tube removed and soft foods will be totally enjoyed.

  I realize that members of my family have had TIAs (light strokes with little to no after effects), full blown strokes with definite life long effects, breast cancer and uterine cancer.  I am not making light of those family members and what they endured.  Thankfully those family members received timely help and have gone on with regular visits to make sure there is no recurrence.  No, there are no guarantees for any of those family members.  Prayers of blessings that those with cancer are, for now, free of cancer. In the case of strokes, each day is watchful with the lifestyle they live.

  The survival rate for esophageal cancer is slim as the cancer moves quickly to the brain or elsewhere.  It does take both of my hands to count acquaintances that Dennis and I have lost to esophageal cancer.  I know Michael will regain the excessive weight loss in time to come.  His energy will revive itself slowly as he putters around the farmyard.  A huge part of the recovery he has had to this point is a wife with a surgical career.  JoAnn was on alert 24/7 and picked up on the slightest of abnormalities.  I am sure their vehicle could find itself to Rochester much like a radio-controlled car.

  Today is just a day of good feelings knowing that Raymond and Lena’s family still has a head count of four children to be there for their children and their grandchildren.   Speaking as one of those four, I love my life knowing that my three siblings are just a phone call or an email away.

  In life, please give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.

   
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  Noreen 3:30 am on July 13, 2014 Permalink
  Tags: Calvin ( 4 ), Esther Schafer, Michael   

  Priceless Treasures – Part 1 

  I am now in the portion of my basement sewing area that I pull from on a regular basis for my projects.  The next best thing to having a grocery pantry is a stash of sewing and handwork supplies that are just a set of stairs away.

  Many individuals have added to my stashes.  For some, the craft project that looked like it would be a shoe in once the supplies were purchased realized that the investment of time and energy just wasn’t their cup of tea.  Have I ever turned down items that have been brought to me by disillusioned consumers?  No.  The memory of limited resources in my childhood have made a permanent impression in the gray matter located between my ears.

  Before I was even a teen my Mom introduced me to the wonderful world of darning socks.  She would hand me the wooden potato masher to assist in stripping the socks with holes in the heels.  The hole was positioned over the flat portion of the masher and the mending of the socks proceeded.  There was no option of throwing socks away with holes that had rubbed in their heels well after the cushion within the shoe was worn away.  Even Kevin was the proud owner of hand-mended socks at a time when he stayed with his Grandma Lena in the mid 1980s.  There is something in the “need for thrift” that remains during times when it may not have to be adhered to as stringently.

  I know I have more paper for various types of use, including correspondence, than I need.  I know, who writes letters anymore?  To me the stash of paper goods represents to me that I have choices when a need arises.  As a child the red covered wide lined tablet with the Indian on the front was only for things that were required for school.  At home when Calvin, Michael and I wanted to draw pictures or keep score in a card game, our choice was an array of scraps of wallpaper that Mom had saved. It could have been from a wallpapering project in our home or perhaps from a project my Mom helped with at one of my aunts.  Regardless of the print on one side the back was ours to use and enjoy.  I was a World War II baby and resources were measured very carefully.

  

  It’s hard to share this treasure as needlework and thread crocheting is not done by many. I have been crocheting out of this bin since the early 70s when my mother-in-law Esther Schafer no longer needed them. It’s hard to make a dent in it as it represents a lot of lineal feet.

  So . . . there am I.  When I have choices in the items I can use to create projects I do not have to first visit a retail store. I cherish that.  When the idea for the next creative project hits, I shop my stashes to make it work.  Needless to say the value of some items in my stashes are out of this economical world.

  It’s also very rewarding to share what I have with those that may be in need.  My children consider my basement sewing and craft area as a “one stop shopping area.” If I have it, anyone can leave with the wares in hand and . . . I have also been known to deliver.  Today was just such a day.  I had extra and someone remembered that I had offered it via a visit.  It made my heart sing to see the new owner of what I had to share leave the premises.  The new owner wore a smile that made it feel as if it was a million dollar sale.  My Dad advocated that giving and sharing is done not until it hurts but it until it feels good.

  In life, please give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.